


A Tangled Web

by BlueMaple



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (But for whom?), Death Star Lego, F/M, Fluff Turned Drama, Humor, Natasha Just Wants Everybody To be As Happy As She Is (though she'll never say that), Never Forget That Cap HAS A PLAN, Nobody likes Fury, Romance, To Be Fair He's a Jerk, Try the Tiramisu!, We'll be Here All Week, more layers than an onion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 16:12:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4442453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMaple/pseuds/BlueMaple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is a rose ever really just a rose? The Black Widow has her suspicions, and, now that she's ensnared the Hawk, is bound and determined to tie off all of the Avengerific romantic loose ends...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> More references to roses in 'My Fair Lady'...

"You shredded his _roses_?'

"Go away, Agent Romanoff." Agent Hill licked her pencil (a rather disgusting habit, Agent Romanoff couldn't help but think), and scribbled away. "I'm busy."

"Not too busy to break poor Banner's heart," Romanoff said. "Obviously. And here I thought I was the assassin; are you looking for a career change or something? You seem to have all of the qualifying knacks.'

"Standard protocol, Agent Romanoff, ever since the evolving tuna incident." Hill actually looked up at that, eyes narrowing. "I don't suppose you know anything about that?'

"I don't eat seafood. And decontamination may be standard protocol, but shredding isn't. That was just mean.'

Agent Hill sighed.

"It was not _mean_ ," she said. "And contrary to popular belief, neither am I. I was just… startled.'

"Startled," Agent Romanoff repeated. "You mean scared shitless, don't you?'

"Not to put too fine a point on it, Romanoff, but the man broke Harlem. _And_ bit that last dragon ship. In _half_. Did you not see the recordings?'

"It was more of a rend than a bite," Romanoff said. 'And what difference does it make, anyway? He's not the one who did the damage. That was the Other Guy."

"I fail," Agent Hill said icily. "To see the difference. I am not, and never shall be, _into_ that sort of thing."

"I don't think he is either," Agent Romanoff said. "For the record. If he was, we'd have a lot more of an ongoing problem."

Agent Hill sighed and put her pencil down.

"Look, Natasha" she said. "He's nice. As is. Really nice. Even kind of cute, when he's not… You know. But there are some things you just can't set _aside_ , you know?'

"Mm," the Black Widow said. "Yes. I think I do. That being said…"

"There is nothing to be said." She picked up her pencil again. "Go away, Agent Romanoff."

"Alright, then," Romanoff said. "But that being said… I still think it was mean. You did it right in front of Michelle, for God's sake, and she's the biggest gossip in SHIELD! You had to know it would get back to him.'

"Maybe I wanted it to get back to him," Hill snapped. "Have you ever thought of that? He may be a genius, but I've met more than a few of those, and they tend to be more than a little slow on the social uptake.'

"I have thought of it, yes," Romanoff said. "Which is why I'm here in the first place." She leaned forward intently, eyes narrowed. "Why would you want something like that to get back to him, Maria? If you're so scared of him and all? Didn't you stop to think that it might just… disturb him?'

"He may be a monster, but he's still a _gentleman_. He'd never…' She stopped abruptly. Agent Romanoff got to her feet and stretched leisurely. There was no denying the fact that behind her, her shadow on the wall looked rather… arachnoid.

"I'll leave you be," she purred. "You obviously have work to do. Paperwork, studies, reports… _Differentials_ to examine…" She sauntered out, and down the hall. As she rounded the corner…

"Well?' Barton hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the broom closet. "What did she say?'

"Please," Natasha said. "As if there was ever any doubt. She's totally into him."

"What?' He actually blinked. "But I thought she liked Cap!"

"She's hot for Cap," Natasha corrected. "But she _likes_ Banner. She won't admit it to me, or rather to herself, but the signs are all there." She considered that. "She needs to work on that. Really. She's never going to get out of that chair and into the evening gown and razored stilettos if she can't even manage the most basic control of body language.'

"Huh?'

"Never mind." She waved him off. "The point is, I was right. She's totally bonkers over him, and since we all know how he feels about her…"

"We do?'

"Well, I do. That's all that counts, again. And she needs a hobby. Something besides drinking Nespresso and making our lives a paper-lined, ink-soaked hell."

"I'm not arguing with you, Tash, really I'm not, but… Banner? Hill and Banner? Can you imagine the children?'

"No," his lover said. "I'm not. I'm too busy imagining the hot, green and bitchy sex."

"EW! NATASHA!"

"SHHHH!" She clapped a hand over his mouth, laughing silently. "Oh my God, you're so predictable. I was just kidding, Clin… OW!"

'You're not the only one who bites. Really, what are you up to?'

"Nothing. Nothing except…" She hesitated. "I'm not going soft, really… But she's kind of… sad, Clint. Bitches usually are, right, under all that grouch. I know. And anger… Anger doesn't come from nowhere unless you're a psychopath, and Bruce may be a lot of things, but he's not that. And she may have the hots for Cap, but she's not _his_ type, so that'll never work out, will it?"

"You're going soft, Romanoff," but it too, was suddenly soft, and he kissed her nose gently. "You're not so bad really, you know?' He pulled back. "I don't suppose you know what his type is?'

"Yeah. I do actually, but Banner and I are still hunting up the perfect and appropriate specimen. Once we find her though… Woo. To quote Walt Whitman… All of _America_ will hear America singing.'

The Hawk looked up at the ceiling of the broom closet thoughtfully.

"You're going about it all wrong," he said. "He's a classic man, and needs a classic rebound relationship first. Something that he thinks will be a classic rebound relationship, anyway, but once he's in there – and she sees what he's got going under his spandex…'

"He's a lot more than his spandex, Clint. And he's just a kid besides, in so many ways. We don't want him to get his heart broken again.'

'No, no. We just have to…" His eyes brightened. "I know!"

"You… Do?' It sounded rather dubious. Clint said nothing, just scrambled for his phone and typed rapidly.

"There," he said. "He's got a vested interest in seeing the particular woman happy, and he's a total sap besides."

"A total... No. No way. You're getting _Thor_ involved in this?'

"Of course. Who better? He may not be the King of Asgard yet, but he's the total king of cheesy, old-fashioned romance." He stowed his phone away and linked his arms about her waist. "So that's him, and now you've got Banner and Hill in your sights… Eep!" He actually squeaked as the door to the broom closet swung open.

"And what,' Agent Hill said testily. "Do you two think you're _doing_?"

"If you can't figure that much out," Agent Romanoff said sweetly, "You really do have a problem, Agent Hill. Perhaps you should call Doctor Banner? I'm sure he'd be more than happy to educate you on the scientific and biological specifics.'

The door slammed again, but not before…

'Fuck _me_ ," Clint said in awe. "Did you see her ears? Bloody color of a horny baboon's behind; I'm surprised there weren't flames there!"

"Total goner," Agent Romanoff said, standing on her toes to kiss him. "And once they're together, she'll be so giddy and grateful that she'll sign off on that month's paid vacation in Paradise for us without so much as a murmur."

"Ah. Your real motive! I knew there had to be something in it for you."

'And you," she said. "And him, and her, and Cap too, eventually, and ooh, look at that. Happy endings all around!"

"Who are you," he said. "And what have you done with the Black Wid….. OWWWWW!"

The Black Widow just smirked.


	2. Chapter 2

"No."

"Come on, man." Clint Barton propped his feet up on the railing of the balcony, tilting precariously back on the rickety chair as he talked to his companion through the open window. "It's just for a couple of hours, and it would get Tash off my back besides. She's gone all weird lately; she's got this idea that certain of her friends aren't really happy, generally or romantically speaking, and is gone on her version of bender to fix things there."

"I appreciate her concern, I really do, but I'm fairly sure that Agent Romanoff's version of happy would scare me, Clint. And traumatize me at least a little in the long run, and I don't especially enjoy the state."

"Her normal version of happy, maybe, but like I said, she's gone weird with it. I've no idea what's up there, but in the meantime… She's traumatizing _me_ , and she's as good at it as she is at everything else besides being even moderately sane when she gets fixated on something.'

"Yes, well. While I appreciate her concern for my happiness," Steve Rogers said again as examined the glossy pages of instructions before him, selected a single square brick of dark grey plastic, and placed it carefully on the half-finished Death Star on the coffee table before him. "And yours for your own… I repeat. No. And before you ask me what the big deal is – again – there is no big deal. I just don't want to go."

"You never want to go anywhere," Bruce Banner said from the kitchen. The whir of the blender sounded, and in a moment he appeared in the frame of the window, sipping at something, unsurprisingly, green. "It wouldn't kill you to get out of the house now and again, Steve. And it's not a date. She doesn't do dates any more than you do. I'm not even sure she knows what they are."

"I know what they are. And know what you're all trying to do, and as I told you, I'm not ready."

"You are looking at this all wrong, Friend Steve," Thor said earnestly from the rickety chair opposite Barton's. Between the two, Tony Stark perched on the railing, clad in jeans and t-shirt and gold wrist bands as he flipped through Captain America's latest copy of 'LegoWorld'. "The woman in question is not looking for a relationship, she is looking for a…"

"Careful there," Stark said. "It's a long way down, and Birdbrain here hasn't been on a proper mission in two weeks. He might not be able to resist the temptation." He flipped a page. "I wouldn't. Hey look, Legolas! They have Tash in here this month, and her boobs are detachable!"

"So are your testicles. Would you like me to demonstrate?'

"Friend," Thor overrode them loudly, before they could get into it. "You are not adverse to the idea of those, are you?'

"The word 'friend'," Steve said. "Does not mean what it used to, your Highness. Nice try."

"It does where I come from."

"It does in your head," Steve corrected. "Some things are universal, no matter the universe you live in, or the times, and when a man invites a feminine body for dinner, the accompanying feminine mind does not generally linger on the 'f' word.'

"I think that you underestimating the species in general," Thor said. "Bodies, minds and all. And you may close your _mouth_ , Man of Iron, before it catches my hammer. One need not be a god to anticipate what you are about to say, and it will not help our cause."

Tony sighed.

"I'm bored," he said. "Why am I bored again? Oh yes, because this is boring. You're boring, Rogers, did anyone ever tell you that?"

"And you're a…."

Banner cleared his throat.

"Not that I disagree with you, you understand," he said. "But you'd regret it in the morning. Among other things, if I have to put up with one more night of you holing yourself up here between your own missions. Don't take this the wrong way, man, but it kind of cramps my style."

"Huh?'

"You have style?' Stark said. "When did that happen?'

"Right around the time he told Agent Hill that she'd inspired him to work on a self-heating coffee cup," Barton said. "It went over a lot better than the roses."

'Here?" Steve sounded absolutely horrified. "You… Her… Here? Doesn't she have her own apartment?' He paused. "Self-heating coffee cups? Really? Can you make me one?'

"Only if you let Thor make the phone call."

"Bruce…"

"You need friends," Bruce said firmly. "More friends. You need a life, Steve, and sitting here assembling the Death Star is not doing the-kind-of-doctor-that-I'm-not in me any kind of favours, never mind the Other Guy."

"I thought he liked me!"

"He does. He also likes the idea of me making friends, and Agent Hill might have her own apartment, but it has far too many neighbors."

"Your apartment has me!"

"Not if you go out, it won't." He perched on a kitchen stool, bare feet tucked under him. "Come on, man. You may have missed your last date, but I literally got muscled out of mine."

"Do you really like her?' Barton asked, looking over. "Hill, I mean. Really?"

'I don't know yet," Banner said. "But the Other Guy does. He appreciates her sense of humor anyway."

"Maria Hill has a sense of humor?' Ever other man in the room, and on the balcony, looked blank.

"As much of one as _he_ does, anyway. The shredded roses might have hurt my feelings, but they made _him_ laugh."

"The last time I saw _him_ laugh, Friend Bruce, he was taking a bite out of the Chitauri dragon ship.'

"And he last time he _actually_ laughed was when he caught her slapping the shit out of Fury the day after Coulson officially came back from the dead. Knocked the eyepatch right off of him, and I hear his screw-of-the-week actually filed a formal complaint over what she did to the rest of him."

"It was worth every second of agony and mental hell," the not-dead man in questioned said with a most unaccustomed grin as he returned from the washroom. "She had him laid out and whimpering like a baby."

"That was Hill?' Barton said incredulously, actually sitting up. "Are you serious? He told Tash that that Fallon Ichloss crunched his numbers while they were sparring!"

"Who?'

"Fallon Ichloss. Head of Accounting over the base. He used to be the hand-to-hand trainer for SHIELD's Assassins' Training Corps till… Well. It's a long story, but suffice it to say that he a) switched departments, and b) still keeps up with his sparring schedule."

"Fury has a screw-of-the-week?' Steve said dubiously. "Really? Who in their right mind would sleep with him?"

"Nobody," Stark said. "But then, SHIELD isn't known for attracting people in their right minds."

"Shove him off the balcony, someone," Bruce said. "Please? _He_ isn't big enough to fit out there, and there's that perfectly good Death Star besides."

"As you wish, oh vermilion one ," Thor said, and raised his arm. There was a massive thud, a flurry of suddenly iron-clad limbs, and an indignant squawk. Steve Rogers rose fluidly to his feet and ventured onto the balcony, leaning,over, arms braced on the railing as he looked down.

"I don't think that will ever get old," he said. "No matter how old I get. And with only five floors, he's not got enough time to turn around before he hit the dumpster. Oop. There it is. Caught on the rebound off the awning. Okay, that was worth it. You're on, Thor. Two hours, no more, and you'd better not feed her expectations, because I'm not doing anything but feeding _her_. And you and Agent Hill better stay out of my room while I'm gone," he added to Banner, glaring. "You have diplomatic immunity in your own, but if you step foot past the shield on my door, your – and his – ass will be very short and clipped green _grass_ , understand?'

"It was a coffee mug, not an invitation to fluff my, or your, pillows, Steve. She's coming over to test it out, and to see if I can get through 'Sense and Sensibility' without losing it. She says if I can manage that, she'll allow me to send her roses again, and will stick to simple decontamination this time."

"You're crazy," Stark reappeared, tossing a banana peel aside and brushing off the vague remnants of kitty litter. 'She'll kill you with it."

"No she won't," Coulson said. "She not only likes him, but Agent Romanoff told her that Fury plans to forbid him to see you besides, if you manage to get through the movie, that is."

"She did?'

"It was my idea. Eleven _weeks_ , and he didn't even offer me a real trip to Tahiti to make up for it!"

There was a considering pause all around.

"I don't suppose," Barton said. "That you told him – Fury, that is – that you thought the match inadvisable? We all know how he values your opinion.'

"I would never presume to venture an opinion there," Coulson said primly. "Such manner of things lie completely outside my professional jurisdiction, and Doctor Banner is a civilian besides."

'I like you, Coulson," Stark said. "You need to stop staring at Pepper's ass, but I like you.'

"I'm so pleased," was all Coulson said. Steve, returned to the coffee table, placed a series of dark blue triangular bricks meticulously.


	3. Chapter 3

"You're his ex-fiancee?' Steve set his wine down and looked at the stunningly beautiful woman opposite him incredulously. The wind chimes hanging above the little table at the outdoor café shuddered in sympathy, while the delicate green shadows from the hanging fuschia plants winced, scattering haphazardly across the tastefully understated china place settings between them. "He set me up with his _ex-fiancee_?"

"It was not, I assure you, my idea," the woman sitting said. She sounded not a little testy, and was eying the salad before her as if it might bite her. "And we were never formally betrothed. His mother and my mother just had this idea that we'd be a good match because we'd play together as children without emerging covered in blood. I was a temperamental child," she elaborated at his look. "And most of the would-be-warriors in Asgard either humoured me or scoffed at me when I announced that I would grow to best them all. Thor never did."

"He's got some nerve," Captain America said. "I'll give him that."

'And atrocious taste in women," Lady Sif-of-the-aforementioned-Asgard said sourly. She didn't… quite… slump in her chair, but only because her armor didn't allow it. "That _astronomer_ of his has as much personality as a _brnagafathin,_ and her only athletic prowess she has ever demonstrated is the quite astonishing speed at which she threw herself at his feet. And into his arms, and under his…"

"His ex-fiancee who hasn't gotten over him, yet. I am in hell."

'No," Lady Sif said. "You are not. Trust me. I may yet escort him there, though, if he does not stop trying to make me a match out of guilt. He told me that you just wanted a friend."

"Did he. He told me the same thing."

"I wanted dinner," the warrior woman said. "He caught me at a weak moment, and the temporal differentials took care of the rest." She poked at the salad. "And I still want dinner. This is not food. This is shrubbery."

"It's only the first course," Steve said. "There's meat coming, I assure you."

"If you were not quite so obviously and pathetically innocent," Lady Sif said. "I would detach your head for that little innuendo, and not the one that sits so prettily on your shoulders, Captain Rogers."

"Huh?" He wrinkled his nose at her, then blushed violently. "Oh God. I didn't mean it that way; I didn't…"

"I know you did not." She sighed. "Please do not take this the wrong way, but all else aside, you are really not my type."

"Why not?' He didn't seem terribly offended, she was pleased to note, but…

"You are not a warrior," she said. "You fight bravely, and quite spectacularly well, but you are like your room-mate the doctor – a healer at heart. Your blood does not run hot in battle."

"And that's a prerequisite for you?' He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Yes. It is not necessarily healthy, I am aware – again, your room-mate has told me, and one cannot fault his reasoning- but for better or for worse, it is what I am drawn to."

"That certainly makes my life easier," Steve said. "Wait, you know Bruce?'

'Not as well as Lady Natasha and Thor would like, I am sure. We two had a meal together on top of Stark Tower. Neither of us enjoyed it, not as they would have had us enjoy it, but it was interesting, nevertheless. And afterward, we went to a barren field and sparred. It was most invigorating."

"How many of my acquaintances has he tried to set you up with, exactly?'

"I am not sure. He has suggested many, but I tend to ignore him. It is obvious that he feels obliged."

Steve grimaced. Sif looked him over.

"You are angry with him," she observed. "And Lady Natasha… But not with Doctor Banner. Why is that? He had pre-knowledge of the situation and did not warn you, after all."

"It's not Bruce's fault. And it wasn't his idea, was it, so I don't blame him. When it comes right down to it, he just wanted the house to himself so that he can show off his tiramisu- making skills for Agent Hill."

"His… What? Is that another euphemism?'

"No. It's a dessert. He's been practicing all week. She's addicted to the stuff the way Agent Romanoff is to baklava." He poked at his salad, and put his fork down. "Look, I'm sure you're very nice, and please don't take this the wrong way, which I'm sure you won't, because you already brought it up… But you're not really my type either. You're very beautiful, but that aside, I don't want a relationship right now. I have enough to deal with while developing a relationship with this world in general."

"It must be very difficult for you," Sif said. "It is a dilemma that I cannot truly understand – Asgard rarely changes from eon to eon – but Doctor Banner and I discussed you much at the top of Stark Tower. You are fortunate indeed to have such a man as your friend."

"He's the best," Steve said whole-heartedly, and for just a moment, he sounded just as young as the boy she knew he really was, under the spandex. "I really don't know how I'd have gotten even this far without him to help me keep things in perspective. He's like… He's like my best friend, big brother and father wrapped up all in one."

"He loves you very much," Sif said. "Unreservedly, really."

"Huh? We haven't… Um. He does?'

"Yes." She turned a leaf over. "I had that kind of love once. Everyone I am acquainted with insists on thinking it was more than it was, naturally – not helped along by the fact that he shared my bed on occasion, though nothing generally came from it but restful sleep, on both sides – but I know it well enough to recognize it now. And to envy it. You may have lost your chance with your lady, Captain Rogers, but you have gained something too. I am sure, man that you are, you do not think it an equitable exchange, but you may trust me when I tell you that what you have with Bruce Banner is not to be treated lightly, or with undue regard. The right lady will come, given due time and opportunity, but a relationship such as you have with the good doctor… It is nothing short of a gift."

"I know. And I don't," Steve said. "Treat it lightly, I mean." He poked at a leaf. 'He's my friend."

She looked him over. "We could be friends too, I think," she said. "Given worlds enough and time?"

"Are you lonely too, then?' he asked directly, looking up at her. She smiled, a little sadly.

"Always," she said. "Since my Haldorr was murdered so foully."

"Did you get the bastard, at least?'

"The bitch," she corrected. "And yes. For the moment. I in no way anticipate it being our last."

"Let me know if you ever need an extra sword there. Or shield, as the case may be."

"Why would such a law-abiding man as yourself make such an offer?'

'I only feel obliged to follow the laws in places which have laws that apply to me. Asgard is, as Coulson would say, outside my jurisdict…" He caught a sudden odd look on her face, and paused. "Do you know Phil?'

"I do," she said. "He is a most interesting man – he speaks little, but says much. I must admit that when Thor approached me with the suggestion that I meet yet another acquaintance of his, that I had hoped…"

She stopped. Steve sat back.

"I could introduce you properly," he suggested. "Discreetly, even." His brow wrinkled. "But don't you like warriors?'

"He blew a hole in Loki," Sif said. "A large one, or attempted to anyway, and you cannot tell me that he did not enjoy it."

"He's a bit scary," Captain America admitted. "Well, more than a bit. Especially since he got back. Tony thinks he's just waiting for a chance at round two, but with Fury this time. We all are in our own ways, I suppose; he, like me, is a lot older than he looks, and he's screwed us all over one way or another over the years. Always for the greater good of course, but it never fails to amaze at how the greater good always seems to benefit him. None of us are terribly fond of him on that personal level.'

"Hence the evolving tuna incident?'

"You heard about that, huh?'

"I did. His Highness was most amused. All of Asgard was amused; it made a most entertaining tale at the last feast.'

"I'll bet." He sat back again as the waiter came to remove their salad plates. "So. For the record… You're annoyed at Thor over Jane, but you don't really want him when it comes right down to it; you're just miffed that he chose her over you?"

"Tactless, but essentially correct. He is an idiot," Sif said morosely. "I do not know why I do care, really."

"You probably don't. You're just lonely, like you said," Rogers said. "And your lover is dead, and people laughed at you when you were a kid, and you never get over that, ever, no matter how much you prove them wrong after the fact.'

Sif examined him as the waiter set their entrees in front of them. He sat quietly, a single lock of blond falling over his eyes.

"He is my heart's habit," she said finally. "I suppose. And Haldorr is gone now, and as a warrior… I have always been particularly fond of red.'

"You don't wear it well," Steve said. "Or him. You deserve better, Lady."

"You are fair courteous, for such an innocent and tactless man, Steven Rogers."

"I try," he said. "Even if no one in this day and age seems to appreciate it." He picked up his fork and knife and sliced into his steak.

"What are you looking for in a woman?' she asked curiously. "Or in general?' He lifted a shoulder as he speared a hefty chunk of meat.

"Worlds enough and time,' he said. "And that ability to make the sun stand still. Has he lent you his Narnia books yet? Bruce, that is?'

"Not yet," she said. "I do not think we are on the same curriculum, even if you did recognize the quote."

"He didn't teach me that. Another friend of mine did. Back during the war. He memorized it, and quoted it so often to every girl who'd listen that I picked it up by osmosis."

She laughed. "And was it effective?"

"Very. I can still hear him reciting it to the adoring crowds."

"What was his name, this friend of yours?'

"Bucky."

"What happened to him? Do you know?'

"He died," Steve Rogers said shortly. "In battle."

Sif said nothing for a long moment. Overhead, the wind-chimes sang softly amid the shadows and green.

'There are worse ways to go," she said finally. "Even on this world."

"He wasn't a warrior," Steve said. "He was barely a soldier. He was just a kid who loved life and women and wine and song and adventure, and who went to war because that's what they told us, when it came right down to it, we should be doing.'

'Is that why you went?'

"No. My reasons were much more suspect. I just wanted to be a hero."

"I don't believe that."

"Why not?' He stabbed his steak again.

"Because I understand men who want to be heroes," Sif of Asgard said. "And they are rarely the ones who end up _as_ heroes. The heroes are the ones who understand that there is a job to do, and a corresponding price to be paid, and that if they don't pay it themselves that the price will come out of a treasury that no kingdom on any world can afford to let run dry."

"Does your future king understand that?'

"I never cease to be amazed at what Thor understands," she said, and her lips tilted wryly. "And at what he doesn't understand. How could he possibly, possibly, have thought this was a good idea?'

"It wasn't a bad idea," Steve said. "It did get me out of the house. And you, obviously. And that being said… It wasn't his idea in the first place. It was Agent Romanoff's."

"Ah yes. The redoubtable Agent Romanoff. Is she with child, do you know?'

"WHAT?" He nearly choked on his steak.

"This obsession that she has developed with her acquaintance's romantic lives is rather out of character. The urge to see everyone about you settled happily could be indicative."

"Agent Romanoff, pregna… No. No. Ack. No. God Almighty. Do not even hint at that around her!"

"If she is, my hinting around will not change the fact."

"No, I know, but… Ack. Fury would absolutely shit; he'd…" He paused suddenly. "I wonder…"

"You wonder what, Captain Rogers?'

"The evolving tuna incident was funny, but… Everyone's still really really pissed off at the Coulson thing. I mean… Really pissed off. Pissed off enough, maybe, to cooperate on a mission specifically designed to target the person responsible?'

"Are you planning to hurt him?'

"No, no. that would be wrong. I think…" He leaned forward. "I think that Nick Fury needs to learn a lesson on the dangers of deception."

"How very moral of you, Captain Rogers. And potentially therapeutic, as the good Doctor might say. Shall we bring him in on it now?'

"No. he's in the middle of a date. That being said…" He reached for his phone. It rang once.

"Mon Capitaine! How goes the battle? Have you got her pinned yet? No, don't answer yet, let me switch to speaker first. I'm not the only one who wants to know."

"Shut up, Tony. Listen, we're still in agreement in the fact that Fury's a total dick, right? And that he needs to be taught a lesson on the values of loyalty, truth, friendship, and the American way?'

"Yes," Coulson's voice said. "We do. Tahiti, my ass. I didn't even get back pay, can you believe it? Apparently, I'm just supposed to be silently and graciously thankful that I'm still alive.'

"Fury _said_ that?' Steve couldn't see Tony Stark's jaw hit the floor, but he could almost hear the thud.

"No. He said that he'd see what he could do, but that the budget was tight thanks to ongoing issues regarding the Chitauri recovery fund."

"You are one of the ongoing issues of the Chitauri recovery fund! You died!" Pepper Potts' voice wasn't quite indignant. Steve wasn't entirely sure what it was, but he was suddenly glad he was six miles away from Stark Tower. "Do you need money, Phil? He needs money, Tony! Give it to him, now!"

"I don't need money, Pepper." Coulson sounded amused. "I wouldn't mind hearing about this idea for a lesson, though. Go on, Captain.'

"I will," Steve said. "As soon as we round everyone up. It's going to take all of us, and very careful coordination.'

"Banner too?'

"Not unless you want the Other Guy to show up. I'm estimating that they've still got an hour left of Sense and Sensibility, and he's got tiramisu besides. I'll fill him in later."

'You got it. Stark Tower, ten o' clock tomorrow morning."

The phone clicked.

"Are you going to tell me about this plan of yours?" Sif inquired. "And am I invited to attend this meeting?"

"Of course," Steve said, and pushing his plate aside, leaned forward and began to talk rapidly and concisely. The Lady Sif's eyes widened in perceptible admiration and mirth.

"My goodness," she said, when he'd concluded. 'I am impressed, Captain Rogers. That is a plan that Loki himself would be proud of. In terms of the elemental strategic,' she hastened to add at the suddenly dubious look on his face. "Not in essential villainy." Even as she spoke, the phone rang. Steve picked it up.

"Rogers," he said.

"Hey Steve,' Bruce's voice was stretched and tight. Steve sat up immediately. "Coast is clear. Well, flooded, more like, but if you want to come home, don't delay on my account."

"What? Oh, Bruce, no. What happened?'

"The tiramisu went over well. Really well. The Other Guy loved it.'

"Oh. Oh God." His eyes widened. "Is she alright?'

"She's fine. Gone, but fine. I'm really sorry. I broke your Death Star before I managed to get him under control again."

"Don't worry about it. I'm so sorry, Bruce."

"Not your fault. Listen, I'm going out, okay? Don't worry; I'll go somewhere safe, but I just need to work off some stress. I'll be back in the morning.'

The phone clicked again.

"Shit," Captain America said unhappily. "He really liked her too. I mean… _Really_ liked her."

"I'll talk to her," Sif said. He looked up.

"You will? I mean… You know her? Well enough to talk to her?'

"I do." She got to her feet. "Do you have her phone number?'

"I do, but…"

She held out a rather imperious hand. He dialed, and handed the cell off obediently.

"Maria," the warrior goddess said. "Sif. Are you alright? Doctor Banner just called Captain Rog… Oh, Maria. Don't cry. I'll be right there." She handed the phone back.

"Agent Hill is crying?' Steve looked horror-stricken. "But… He said he didn't hurt her! And that he got it under control!"

"Pure, innocent, tactless, _and_ stupid," Sif of Asgard said in disgust. "No wonder Thor thought we'd get along; you're exactly like he is. I will be at the meeting at ten with Agent Hill. Call your friend back now, Captain Rogers, and make sure he's there. Revenge on Fury aside, we are going to _fix_ this."

She strode out rapidly. Steve watched her go.

"Women," he said. 'I will never understand them."

"Fortunately for us, it's not a prerequisite," the waiter said, reappearing. "Shall I wrap up your dinner for you, sir?'

"Yeah, sure," Steve said. "Both of them. I have a room-mate; I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

"Of course, sir." The waiter disappeared discreetly. Captain America sighed, then, diverted again, smiled grimly.

"Thus, though we cannot make our sun/Stand still, yet we will make him run," he quoted aloud. "You can't just mess with people's lives like you do, Fury. The greater good or no… You just… _can't_. There are _consequences_. And maybe once you've learned that… We can all get on with our lives. Happily, even.

He reached for his wallet, pulled out the company credit card, and sat back to wait for his packed dinners.


	4. Chapter 4

"I AM SUCH AN IDIOT!"

"I don't really know you well enough to make that assessment," Pepper Potts said briskly, pouring the wine. "But I'm willing to take your word for it. What happened?'

"I FUCKED IT UP!"

'That," Natasha Romanoff said, 'is blatantly obvious, since you are here with us, not there with him. What happened?'

"HE'LL NEVER TALK TO ME AGAIN!"

"Somehow," Sif said. "I doubt that. What. _Happened_?'

"He made me tiramisu," Maria Hill sniffled into her Kleenex. "From scratch. No one's ever made me tiramisu before, and okay, maybe it doesn't sound like a big deal, but when you add it to the self-heating coffee cup he invented just for me…'

"It's a glorified thermos, Agent Hill, with a solar heater on top, and a slot on the bottom to slide in one of those Hot Paw thingies you stick in your mittens."

"Shut up, Agent Romanoff. You know nothing about romance. And neither do I, apparently, because… because…" She faltered.

"Because…" Pepper prompted patiently.

"I kissed him." Hill burst into renewed tears. "And he GREW!"

There was a moment of silence, punctuated only by more wails.

"I shall have to file that away for future reference," Sif said finally. "Since it's been so long since I've obviously missed something… But isn't that generally considered a good thing?'

"Did he break the entire apartment?' Pepper asked.

"No, just the sofa and the Death Star." She gulped the wine. "He got it under control before it got all out of hand, and tried to apologize; he said I'd just startled him with it, and the Other Guy can be a little skittish and shy, and… And… I didn't say anything, I just ran _away_!"

"You _are_ an idiot," Pepper said kindly. "For the record." She handed Sif the last glass and sat down on the second arm of the sofa. "Did you leave your copy of Sense and Sensibility there?'

"Huh? I don't know; yes, I guess so, why?'

"Because now you have a reason to go back," Agent Romanoff said. "And to apologize. Abjectly."

"I can't do that!"

"God, when did you become such a girl, Hill? You've spent how many years cultivating your reputation as a hard-ass, heartless bitch with balls of vibranium, and you're going to let it all go over … What? Something that a guy showed you that he has ultimate control over?"

"He scared me!"

"He made you tiramisu," the Black Widow corrected. "From scratch. Do you have any idea what I'd do to Clint if he ever made me homemade baklava?'

"Um. No?"

"I'd marry him," she said. "On the spot. And have his babies. Right then and there. Good thing he can't boil water."

"I really don't think you have anything to worry about, Maria," Pepper said. "Just go to him, say you're sorry, that you truly admire the fact that he only took out the Death Star, considering a) how much worse it could have been and b) how hot your ass is, and offer him the chance to show you just how much control he really has."

"You think I have a hot ass?'

"No, not particularly, but he does, and it demonstrates self-confidence besides. Self-confidence is sexy. Oh, and bring him roses. Unshredded ones. And a new sofa wouldn't hurt either."

"To be fair," the Black Widow said, "the sofa was already injured. Clint was playing with Steve's Nerf gun the last time he was over, and took out the left back leg. Bruce bandaged it up, but it was only a matter of time, really."

"How the hell do you take out a sofa leg with a Nerf gun?'

"It's a gift. Now. Now that we've got that settled…"

"It's not settled. He _hates_ me!"

"He does not hate you!"

"She's got to be on the rag," Pepper said to the other two women in an undertone as Agent Hill burst into tears again. "It's the only explanation."

"It's not that," Hill said, surprisingly. "It's not even… I was going to call him when I got back, and apologize, even but then… Then I got this." She held out her phone. Pepper took it and examined the displayed text, eyebrows raising.

"Fury's ordering you to cease and desist the pursuit of any potential relationship with Bruce Banner for the good of SHIELD?' she said incredulously. "Can he _do_ that?'

"Does it matter? He's done it!"

"Oh my God!" Natasha grabbed the phone. "He did not! I do not believe his nerve, he's such a… That's it." She slammed the phone down, and hauled Hill up. "Go. Wash your face. Sif, call Steve and tell him to get Banner back here, pronto. These two have a movie to watch and tiramisu to eat, and if Nick Fury doesn't like it, he's going to have to deal with me. Personally."

"But I'll lose my job!"

"Oh, you will not. Go. Wash. Now. Oh, and here." She tossed her a bag she'd left on the table. "Put this on."

"What is it?

'Weapons-grade mini-skirt. Banner's a leg man."

"Huh?'

"Trust me. Well no, don't – it's not good for your health – but put it on anyway."

Agent Hill retreated, blowing her nose again…. The Black Widow hauled out her own cell phone and punched buttons viciously.

"Nicolai. What is this bullshit? Don't give me that, you know exactly what I'm talking about. No, I do not care; you have no right, no right whatsoever, and if you don't back off, I will come over there and finish what Hill started. No. No, I will not see reason; this is nothing but revenge on her for beating you up after the Coulson incident, and I will tell you something else too; the entire base knows she shelled your eggs for that, no matter how much you're paying off Ichloss to take the blame, and we're all pointing and laughing. Yeah, yeah. No. No, you go right ahead. You just go ahead and try it." Her Russian accent on that last was so thick on that last it practically froze the air around it. Sif watched admiringly as she smashed the phone shut so hard it nearly snapped.

"How is it," she inquired. "That you steam like that without setting yourself on fire?'

"Practice," Pepper said, and eyeing the bathroom door, lowered her voice. "Good job. Were you actually talking to someone there, or did you just skip the last button? I lost count; your fingers were flying too fast.'

'Of course I was talking to someone. Clint needed an update so that he can update the boys." She dialed again. "Cap. It's Tash. Get Banner back to the apartment. Of course I know where he is; Sif said that he said that needs to work off stress; and that can only mean that biker bar over in Jersey. Given that, he always stops at that bookstore half a block from the bus station. Move your pretty ass before you miss him, and oh, pick me up a cinnamon latte at the Starbucks by the subway station on your way back.?Non-fat, no whip, extra chocolate sprinkles. Mwah."

"Mwah?' Pepper repeated. "Really?'

"He's adorable when he blushes. I just can't resist the visual, even over the phone."

"Are you absolutely sure you are not with child?' Sif inquired. "Because I must say…"

"No," Pepper said. "No, you must not. Not if you know what's good for you. HILL! YOU ALRIGHT IN THERE?"

There was a pause, then…

"Why," Hill said from the bathroom, "Do I feel as if I'm suddenly channeling Lieutenant Uhura in the first Star Trek series?'

"Ooh, lemme see, lemme…" Pepper blinked as the other woman stepped out. "Wow. That is not a sensible skirt, Agent Hill. Though I daresay it will affect his… sensibilities?'

'It's not decen… What do you think you're _doing_ , Agent Romanoff?'

"Taking a picture,' Agent Romanoff said, tapping again. "And sending it to Banner via your e-mail, just in case Cap misses him, with a rather more eloquent apology than a paper-pusher like you could manage. The hour before your happy reunion should be just enough time to get a pre-emptive firm grip on the Other Guy.'

"How the hell do you know my e-mail pass… Oh, never mind. What about Fury, and the good of SHIELD?'

"We have a meeting at Stark Tower tomorrow morning," Pepper said. "Ten sharp, to discuss appropriate punitive measures against Fury for the Coulson incident. Coulson will, incidentally, be chairing, and Cap… Cap has a _plan_.'

"Excellent." The Black Widow opened the door with a flourish. "After you, ladies.'

"Are you _sure_ this is a good idea? I mean… What if he hates me?'

"Then we'll be sure to say nice things at your funeral.' Pepper pushed her firmly through. "Move your ass, Agent Hill.

"But… Fury said…"

'You obviously didn't get far enough into the movie. 'Always resignation and acceptance," Pepper quoted. "Always prudence and honour and duty. Elinor, where is your heart?"

Maria Hill considered that for a long moment.

"Bruce and I will bring the bagels," she said. "And an extra tub each of cream cheese, lox, and righteous indignation...'


	5. Chapter 5

**Interlude**

_I will be calm. I will be mistress of myself._

She stands on the sidewalk at the corner of 110th and Amsterdam and looks up. There is a single light on in the fifth floor corner apartment. The kitchen, she thinks, and tastes again the tiramisu on her lips and the helpless bemusement in her own heart. _He made me tiramisu,_ she'd thought, and something inside her had torn a little. He could have had no idea of what the gesture really meant to her – no one could have; not even the most persistent of the psychs at SHIELD – but as she'd looked up again, at his anxious, nervously smiling eyes and taut, hopeful mouth, she'd had the sudden urge to tell him. To tell him… everything, not because he was not-that-kind-of-doctor, but because he'd bothered, dammit.

When was the last time someone had really bothered, for Agent Maria Hill?

She couldn't remember. Or rather she could, and…

She'd pushed the thought down.

"It looks delicious," she'd said. Lied. "How did you know?'

"I did my research," he'd said, the taut mouth tilting up a little at the corners, before the smile ducked into cautious hiding again. She'd given him a Look. He'd braced himself. "Ichloss told me."

"Did he.'

"Yeah. We spar together sometimes."

"Mentally or physically?" she'd had to ask. The smile snuck out again, looking a little more reassured.

"Emotionally," he'd said. "If you can call it that. He's a nice man. Good to talk to. He…" He'd paused. "He understands. You know. About certain things.'

She hadn't known, and looks curious. He'd looked down at his bare feet, clean and scrubbed, and thankfully pale.

"His partner," he'd said, and she could have kicked herself. Ichloss' life partner – soul mate, really, if you wanted to get sappy, and absolutely accurate – had been killed in the line of duty. In Harlem. The Other Guy hadn't yet arrived on the scene when it had happened, but Bruce Banner, no matter whether he was wearing his scrubs or purple stretch pants, still and obviously took every death that occurred that night personally.

Very, very personally.

"Ah," she'd said, and then, anxiously, in spite of herself… "He doesn't blame you, does he?'

"No," Banner had said, and that was all. She'd looked down at the pan of tiramisu again. It looked… Frankly, it looked disgusting. Everything necessary was there, that was obvious, and quite probably delectable, but that didn't make it any prettier.

"It's a metaphor," he'd said helpfully as he'd watched her examine it.

"Uh?

"I made it like that on purpose."

"You did? Why?'

"Because I'm an unsubtle man with a subtle mind," he'd said. "And I like to remind myself – and other people - of it now and again?'

She'd sat on the stool opposite, placing the DVD on the table between them.

"I'm scared," she'd said bluntly. He'd wrapped his feet around the stool and offered her one of the two her spoons next to the pan.

"Yeah," he'd said. "Me too. You did shred my roses after all."

"They were my roses by then," she'd said. "Mine to do with what I wanted.'

'So you ran them through the industrial SHIELD-approved blender?'

"It wasn't you," she said. "It was them.'

"I'm having an unsubtle moment," he'd said, as she'd not-elaborated. "You're going to have to explain."

"I don't know if I can," she'd said. "I just…" She'd looked down at the tiramisu again. "I don't like roses. I never have.' There was more to it, of course, a lot more, but she wasn't ready to share that yet.

"A rose is a rose," he said after a moment. "And was always a rose.'

"Mm?'

"Robert Frost," he'd said, and at her bemused look, the smile came out of full lurk, and took centre stage, and bowed in a most gentlemanly manner, and Agent Maria Hill had actually put her hand to her mouth as the quiet tousled man sitting on the stool opposite her offered her a spoon to go with the tiramisu and began to recite _Robert Frost_ at her.

 _The rose is a rose,_ he'd quoted. __  
And was always a rose.  
But the theory now goes  
That the apple's a rose,  
And the pear is, and so's  
The plum, I suppose.  
The dear only knows  
What will next prove a rose.  
You, of course, are a rose -  
But were always a rose.

"Roses aren't subtle," she'd managed, barely containing her tears as he'd trailed to a half. "And they're ordinary. Are you calling me ordinary, Banner?'

"No," he'd said. "And for the record, I don't. Think they're ordinary, I mean. Especially when they come in human form. So why _did_ you shred them? Decontamination would have been quite enough to send the pointed message, and that obviously wasn't your aim, bio-protocols aside, since you're sitting here now.'

Agent Hill grimaced.

"I shredded them because I'd expected - hoped for – more," she'd said. "Roses are something Thor would send, or Stark.'

"You have to start somewhere. And the marigolds haven't bloomed yet," he said. "Give them time. Gamma rays give you a boost, but the side-effects sometimes need a little working-around, and the moon's not full yet at any rate."

"Oh my God," she'd said, and buried her face in her hands. He'd reached out and pulled them away.

"Come on," he'd said. "I left it in the baking pan for a reason. Easier to eat while you're watching the movie, and I never feel quite so much the pig if I go through the whole thing, because as long as it is in the one pan, it's still technically one serving.'

She'd had to laugh, and retrieving the DVD, had followed him into the living room. Into the living room, where the half-finished Death Star sat on the coffee table, and he'd put the DVD in and tucked his feet up, and reached for the remote, and she'd settled the pan of tiramisu between them, and reaching out, had nicked a bit with her spoon, and taken a cautious taste…

Her eyes had widened almost comically. Looking sideways, he'd actually _grinned_ at her expression.

"What the fuck," she'd said, and hauled the pan over, and began to shovel. "What the fuck, Banner? You made this?'

"I'm a scientist," he'd said, sliding over and dipping in with his own spoon, licked it clean. "Good in the lab, the kitchen, and any and everywhere else that requires chemistry. And rising agents, incidentally.'

Agent Maria Hill had nearly spit out her dessert. She rescued the mouthful at the very last moment, thankfully; it was far too good to waste on surprise.

"You're supposed to be shy and retiring!" she'd managed, after another six sustaining mouthfuls. "And proper!"

'I am," he said. "But there _are_ those side effects to deal with on occasion.'

And he hadn't been able to stop herself; she'd leaned over and kissed him, catching him off guard with it… And for one moment, just one moment….

Then the moment had exploded, and the Death Star along with it, and the metaphor there wasn't subtle at all, was it?

Not subtle at all, after all.

Back in the present, she hesitates, hand raised.

_**I'm scared,** _ _she'd said._

_**Yeah** _ _, he'd said._ _**Me too.** _

Maria Hill looks down at herself, and then, before she can stop herself, knocks. The door opens quietly, and almost immediately. Banner stands there, the pale gold light from the kitchen – the only light in the apartment that he's turned on – glowing faintly behind him. She says nothing, for a long moment. He leans against the door frame, waiting.

"May I come in," she manages finally.

"Sure," he says, and straightening, stands aside. She steps in, and turns to face him.

"Agent Romanoff is right," she says. "I'm an idiot.'

"Did she call you that?'

"She didn't have to. She implies quite well, and I filled in the rest of the blanks on my own."

"You're not an idiot. You have a healthy sense of self-preservation is all." He shoves his hands in his pockets. "It's a good thing to have, around me.'

"I don't…"

He raises his hand.

"It is," he said. "The Other Guy isn't going anywhere, after all. There are three people in this room right now, Maria, and it does no good to ignore the elephant in the corner besides. _He_ outweighs it."

She examines his face and sits on the arm of the sofa.

"Can I talk to him?' she asks. Bruce blinks at her.

"He's right here,' he says. "He never really goes away. So… Knock yourself out."

She rises off the sofa and comes to stand beside him, reaching out to touch his cheek. Something behind the brown eyes flares. She shakes her head.

"You're allowed to be angry," she says to him. "It's okay, really. I understand anger. You _know_ I do."

The flare brightens a little… hopefully?

"The fact remains though," Agent Hill continues. "That you're a lot bigger than me. And it's really rude to barge in on someone else's date besides." She catches the flare's Look. "Uh uh. I may be a hard-assed bitch with balls of vibranium, but I'm no easy romantic sell. If you want to court me alongside your buddy here, you're going to have to work for it, and through him. Oh, and for the record? I know damned well the roses were your idea. In case you didn't pick it up earlier, here's an unsubtle hint for you. I fucking hate roses. They're obvious, they're pedantic, they stink, and the only man who ever bought them for me…."

She cuts herself off.

"Nice skirt," Banner says. She blinks at him.

"I'm sorry," she says.

" _He_ likes your skirt,' Banner says. 'Says it looks a lot better on you than it does on Agent Romanoff. Also, for the record? He's colorblind.'

"Huh? What does that have to do with anything?'

"He chose the roses, yes, but he sees them as green, not red." He smiles at her, a little lopsidedly. She stares, mouth half open.

"He understands metaphors?' she manages finally. "Really?'

"Agent Hill," Bruce Banner says patiently "He _is_ a metaphor. As am I, to him."

Agent Hill returns to the mortally wounded sofa again, and sinks down. He comes and sits beside her, standing again briefly to retrieve a random chunk of Death Star from under his hip.

"So what's this plan of Steve's?' he asks after a few moments. 'Do you know?'

"No clue," she says, and revives slightly. "Does _he_ like Fury? The Other Guy, I mean?"

'What do you think?' He slides to the floor, in a sitting position, and reaches for the remote. She eyes him, and gets to her feet, and opens the refrigerator, and returns with two spoons and the second pan of tiramisu. He blinks at her.

"How did you know I made two?' he asks.

"You live with Steve,' she says and handed him a spoon. "And your psyche's on the rag 24/7 besides." She slides down beside him. "Did you know that Agent Romanoff said that if Barton ever made her home-made baklava, she'd marry him and have his babies on the spot?'

"Did she?' He digs into the pan. "Did she say that in front of Sif?'

"Actually yes, she did. Why?'

"Think about it." He grins at her. Agent Hill's eyes widen.

" _Can_ Barton cook?' she asks after a moment. "At all?'

"No," Banner says. "But I couldn't either, when I started out. And no matter what he says, he's not the one with commitment issues.' He licks his spoon. "Her birthday's coming up in a couple of months. I have to say that I'm grateful for her loan of the skirt to you, but she does have a little too much self confidence at times, you know?'

"It would be fun to watch her squirm a bit," Hill concedes "Should we get the others in on it, or consider it a private project?'

"I'm a private man." He feeds her a spoon of tiramisu. "And we're not trying to hurt her in any case. We're trying to fix her.'

"You're such a doctor."

"She's an emotional cripple," Bruce says. "And Barton's no better. And she started it besides.'

"This is true," she concedes again, and leans slightly against his shoulder as he reaches for the remote the second time that night. "Bruce?'

"Mm?'

"Thank you for the coffee mug. Or… Should I be thanking _him_ again?'

"No. That much was my idea. He hates coffee, in its unadulterated form, anyway."

"He does?'

"Mm. It makes him jittery."

"Jittery," she repeats. "And I take it this is a state we want to avoid?'

"Mm."

"Oh well." She reaches over – way over, ignoring, with all sensibility, the suddenly heated, ever-so-slightly green-tinged gaze on her ass - and retrieves the still sealed and piping hot coffee mug from under the armchair opposite. "All the more for me." She unseals it, and pauses. "Wait, hates it, hates it? Even second hand?'

Bruce considers that.

"I don't know," he says. "Probably. He's cringing now, just at the thought of the taste."

"How unfortunate," Maria Hill purrs, and takes a hefty, scorching gulp before gathering up her courage and leaning over to run her Nespresso-scented tongue over Banner's startled lips. "What about you? Are you cringing, Doctor Banner?'

The remote falls to the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

**STARK TOWER**

**10.23 A.M.**

"So?" Pepper plopped herself down with avid, gleaming eyes. "How did it go?"

"Very well, thank you." Maria Hill settled herself on the plush sofa with her steaming mug and sipped sedately. "Steve's late. How very atypical of him.'

"He's running a necessary errand." Natasha cocked her head, watching from between narrowed lids as she watched Bruce Banner walk over to the gourmet tea station set up in Stark Tower's designated Secret Conference Room-of-the-Day. "You're either dead in the sack, Hill, or he's suffering from entirely too _much_ self-control now. Either way, I want my mini-skirt back; it's obviously wasted on you."

"I beg your pardon?'

"You didn't screw?' Darcy slumped. "Really? Damn. I would never have gotten out of bed this early if I'd known I wouldn't be getting smut reports with my bagels."

"Charming," Sif said as she adjusted her armour. "Why are you here again?'

"Because we need a female contact from Team Thor to pull this off," Natasha said. 'And you get distracted by your instincts to kill, maim and disembowel when Jane's around. I can certainly relate, to the instincts if not the trigger, but this plan is going to require precise and undistracted minds, so Darcy it is."

"Far be it from me to point out the fact that there is something fundamentally wrong with your reasoning there," Sif said. "But… There is. Do you need me to point it out to you, or should we take it as a given, and move on?'

"Moving on," Darcy said, and looked expectantly back at Agent Hill. Agent Hill eyed her, then lowered her cup.

"We talked," she conceded. "And watched the movie, and ate tiramisu, and talked more, and rebuilt Steve's Death Star. Then we stopped by Zabar's, and came here."

"That's it?" Pepper said blankly. "That's it? That's all?'

"No," Agent Hill said. "That's not all, but it's all you're going to get. I'm a private woman, and more to the point, Bruce is a private man, and none of you have earned the right to anything more yet, even if he did appreciate the mini-skirt. And before you say you helped me, I would like to point out that none of you really wanted to help me, you just wanted to know what the Other Guy is like in bed. Oh, and Agent Hill there wants a month on the beach with Barton, and has been hoping that if I finally get laid, I'll be so grateful to her for facilitating that I'll sign off without arguing."

Natasha Romanoff didn't often look taken aback, and true to form, she didn't now.

"I can wait," she said. "I have a couple of jobs to take care of anyway; they'll pass the time till the inevitable.'

"Dream on, Romanoff.' She re-crossed her legs elegantly as Bruce came to sit beside her on the arm of the sofa. "So?'

"Tony's trying to figure out how 'rebuilding the Death Star' stacks up as a euphemism," he said. "He thinks he's being creative, but as of yet, he's failing to impress me. So much for genius."

"Hey!" Pepper objected.

"No worries, baby. It just meant that I'm an applied genius, not a theoretical one." Stark came to kiss her. "In this instance, anyway."

In the armchair across the room, Clint Barton snored.

"What's his problem?' Darcy asked. "He not a morning person either? Or… Is he?'

"Morning, noon, night, whatever," the Black Widow shrugged. Even as she spoke, the door banged open, and Captain America, blond hair and blue eyes sparkling, and the rest of him still sweaty from his morning run, strode in, a huge thermal sack in one hand and a smaller brown bag in the other. The snore stopped, and the Hawk cracked a bleary eye.

"Hey man," he greeted him. "D'jou get the stuff?'

"Two Egg McMuffins, double egg, double sausage, double mayo, no green, red or otherwise healthy shit," Steve recited, and dug in the thermal sack, tossing the wrapped packet over, and reaching in again. "For the lady… Grande non-fat cinnamon latte, no whip, extra chocolate sprinkles and a smoked havarti panini with avocado, spinach, tomato, roasted red peppers, and grilled eggplant."

"Bless you." The Black Widow grabbed. "Mm. Also, you stink."

"That's not me. It's the shroud of ethical and moral decay that's risen to encompass our society since I was put on ice." He tossed Bruce a blackberry fruit pie and dug out the first of his hashbrowns, putting the bag aside as he sniffed his own armpit. "That being said, I will admit that it's a little overpowering. Can I borrow your shower, Tony?'

"Right through there." Tony pointed. "Don't press the red button."

"What will happen if I do?'

"The world will end, again, and we'll be held responsible. Again."

"Right." He strode off. "Be right back. Hey, Phil. How are you feeling?'

"Still resenting my lack of a tan," Coulson responded from beside the fruit trays. "Don't take too long. I've got a busy day glowering resentfully at Fury, and if I leave him alone for more than an hour, his psyche allows him start rationalizing again…"


	7. Chapter 7

"You're….What?" Nick Fury stared at the short, tousled man before him.

"Cured," Doctor Bruce Banner said happily. "One hundred percent emotionally unchallenged insofar as chronic anger management issue goes anyway, all tests clear, good to go, and speaking of which… I quit."

"WHAT?" He sputtered weakly, then… "How?"

"Well, this will constitute my verbal notice, and I'm drafting my written as soon as I get… Oh. Oh. You mean how did I cure myself? That's a secret, I'm afraid, at least till I've patented the process. Tony's taking care of that for me, or rather Pepper is. You know how she lives for paperwork."

Fury inhaled, then exhaled. Deeply. Several times.

"Explain," he ordered. "Now."

"It was the roses," Banner obliged. "That I sent Agent Hill. She put them through the decontamination process, you know; the ones that were incorporated after the Evolving Tuna Incident, and after she shredded them, tossed them in the bio-hazard bin. The Other Guy was absolutely broken-hearted when he found out, and he's hard to manage when he's pining, so I went to rescue the shreds after hours so we could give them a decent burial. Took them home, and couldn't help but notice that they were glowing a little around the edges, so I put them under the microscope. Turns out they were interacting with the plastic from the discarded Nespresso capsules, the residue from the coffee itself, and the enzymes from the environmentally friendly spray cleanser that Housekeeping uses to scrub down the bins, and after a bit more research and a truly inspired bout of intellectual prowess –"

'I helped," Stark interjected. "A lot."

"You did." Banner beamed at him. "We came up with a little something-something that shall forever and henceforth be known as Gamma-B-Gone."

"Sweet fuck." The Director of SHIELD ran a hand over his bare skull. "I don't believe this. Are you absolutely sure?'

"Of course he is," Coulson said. "Do you really think he'd risk going back to Calcutta and endangering everyone there again if he weren't?'

"WHAT?'

"I think he missed the part where he quit," Agent Romanoff said to Agent Barton. Clint grunted. He looked, Fury couldn't help but notice even in his bemusement and alarm, a little distracted. Agent Romanoff, on the other hand, seemed to be positively glowing.

"I'm not a danger to anyone anymore," Banner said. "And I like Calcutta. A lot. I do a lot of good there, and now I can do even more. Steve and I were talking, and we thought we'd sell the brownstone and use the proceeds to set up a proper clinic. He's never been to India, and he certainly doesn't need to worry about getting hurt or infected, and would make a great bodyguard besides.'

A slightly ominous silence fell.

"I beg your pardon?' Fury said. "Run that one by me again?'

"I'm going with Bruce," Steve said simply. "I'm sorry, sir, but you can take this as my resignation as well."

"You can't just _leave_!"

"Why not?'

"Because you are an enlisted member of the US _Army_ , that's why!"

"Actually," Steve said. "I'm not. I looked it up. My official tour of duty ended quite some time ago, sir, and that aside, I checked my former contract in the archive, and I've… How did the phrasing go… Aged out? And yes, alright, I'm employed by SHIELD, but I'm still allowed to resign, given a month's notice."

"BUT YOU'RE CAPTAIN AMERICA!"

There was a short, deep, silence.

"America," Steve Rogers said quietly, "Doesn't need me anymore. More to the point, sir, America doesn't want me, not as I am. You don't want me as I am. You want someone who'll take your orders, no matter whether they're moral or legal, simply because they are your orders, and that I cannot do. That I will not do. I will fight true evil wherever I find it, always… But I will not fight on the say-so of someone who has lied to me again and again, who has taken advantage of what he sees as my predictable, inconvenient moral standards, never mind my chronic temporal trauma and ignorance in order to use me as a pawn in his dubious battles."

'Rogers… Steve…"

"I am the master of my fate," Steve Rogers quoted. "I am the Captain of my soul.' I've allowed myself to be held captive, sir, as the saying goes, to the fell clutch of circumstance and the menace of the years for too long, and I've tried, I really have, but I'm not finding my freedom from those circumstances and that menace here. I need to go somewhere else. To try something different. And this cure for Doctor Banner isn't just providing him with opportunities he never thought he'd have again… It's providing me with them too." He rose to his feet with dignity. He had, Agent Natasha Romanoff, never looked more young, or more beautiful, as young and as beautiful as she'd never been permitted to be herself, and her heart broke a little at the sight, and at the ensuing realization.

_He's not lying. Steve Rogers doesn't lie. That means… He's telling the truth. He's telling Fury – all of us – how he really feels. For the first time, and…_

_He wants to leave._ He wants to quit. _He really, really does._

_And I think he just did._

She looked around. In the country of the blind, she thought, there is no need for poker faces.. _._ Clint's face was as impassive as a rock. Tony looked like he'd been hit in the gut. Bruce was looking at his roommate with a quizzical little smile. Phil Coulson's expression was absolutely neutral, but there was an odd fire in his eyes. She couldn't see Agent Hill's face; it was turned to the window.

_What just happened here?_

Later, back at the tower, when Steve had gone for yet another run, she whirled on Banner.

"What the hell," she demanded. "What the fuck, Bruce!'

Banner opened his mouth, but it was Coulson who answered

"He quit," he said. 'That being said… Are you all going to let him go off on his own?'

"I thought we were getting back at Fury! On your behalf!"

"We will," he says simply. "Are. As a side-effect of our new, main mission."

"I am confused," Tony said plaintively. "And I don't like the feeling. For the record."

"I'm in," Barton said laconically, from his seat on the window ledge. Bruce sighed.

"Captain America doesn't lie," he said resigned. "And he said that he's going to Calcutta with me. I guess that means I'm going to Calcutta with him."

"Calcutta's gross," Agent Hill muttered, and then… "Fine. I'm in too. We all know the Other Guy isn't _actually_ cured, and leaving his brand new girlfriend behind won't exactly put him in a good mood, will it?'

"He didn't actually say he was going to Calcutta, Bruce" Pepper pointed out. "He just said that he's going with you. That means you can change your mind on your final destination, and we're all obliged to follow."

"I really should check up on my patients," Banner said apologetically. 'Professional courtesy, you know? It's been awhile, what with one thing or another, and well. I miss them."

"I'll book the jet," Tony said. "But I still don't understand. I thought we had a plan. What happened to the plan?'

"It's changed. That being said… We work around it," Coulson said. "That's what we do." He stretched, and reached for his phone. The Black Widow watched him type rapidly… The Hawk watched _her_ for a moment, then got to his feet and came over and put an arm around her.

"Not exactly the beach you promised me, Agent Romanoff" he said into her ear. She leaned against him, ever so slightly.

"It's gotta beat Budapest," she said. "One way or the other."

"One way," he murmured, nibbling at her ear. "The other still holds the record. It could take considerable effort…"


	8. Chapter 8

Nick Fury, despite his associates' not-particularly-well-disguised contempt of his methods, was not a stupid man. He was, in fact, quite aware of the niceties of subtlety and subtext, and after how-too-damn-many years of dealing with Starks, his bullshit detection meter was off the charts besides.

In the country of the blind, he thought as he sat at his huge desk and contemplated his options, the one-eyed man is king… Never mind the fact that everyone around him always seemed to forget that glass reflects. Maria Hill had had her back turned when Rogers had dropped his little bombshell, yes, but she'd been facing the bloody window when she'd done it, and the wide smirk on her face – never particularly well disguised whenever the shit was about to hit his personal fan - had completely given whatever game that the Avengers thought they were playing away…. Fury had occasionally regretted the necessity of stringing his assistant along when she'd first joined up, but the predictable payoff there in terms of her resultant chronic inability to disguise her emotions around him on that personal level had certainly saved his ass more than once.

It was a pity that Banner's roses had had to pay the price – Fury himself still bore the scars from the thorns of his own long-ago offering - but there'd been a soft glow about her this morning – a green glow, he fancied – along with the smirk, so she'd obviously gotten past her aversion there. He took a moment to ponder how that would work, exactly before rediverting his own attention back to matters at hand.

Fury didn't believe for one second, of course, that Banner had been telling the truth on the subject of his cure. He and Stark weren't the only geniuses on SHIELD's payroll – or more accurately, _Fury's_ payroll – nor even in their personal laboratories, and if there was a cure out there, however recent, he'd know about it. There was also the fact that Thor hadn't been there… Fury knew why, too. Thor, bless his noble blond-and-blue-eyed heart, however good in a fight, couldn't lie for shit. Rogers, he was discovering, had a natural talent for it, though _his_ preternaturally prissy heart (Fury loved the kid, but God help him, he was so, _so_ prissy) likely classified it as 'maintaining the balance on necessary informational flow' or somesuch whargarble.

Fury frowned and tapped his fingers on his desk. If that were all… If that were all… But it _wasn't_ all. Coulson was in on it, and Fury had more respect (and fear) than was quite professionally decent for Phil Coulson. Raising him from the dead had been necessary, just as necessary as hiding his resultant resurrection from his friends, but being dead had … _done_ … something to his right-hand-man's formerly-and-appropriately-deferential attitude, or perhaps it was (and oh, how Nick Fury hated to think on the uneasy possibility) down to his posthumous trip to Tahiti after all… Fury was, when it came right down to it, far more worried about Coulson's change in attitude than he was on Roger's rebellious little tantrum, or the Avengerific enablement he was receiving for his efforts. The Avengers, individually and collectively, were, for all their swagger and power and combined intellect…

Predictable.

Aliens were not.

Nick Fury contemplated his options for a long moment, his fingers tapping again, before turning his head and looking out the window. In the distance, Stark Tower waved back cheerily and blandly.

_It was a "break glass in case of emergency" situation._

_Yes, but that emergency was supposed to be the fall of an Avenger!_

_Exactly._

He'd meant it at the time. He had. He still did.

Nick Fury got to his feet and went to the window, examining his reflection. Tall, muscled, fit… Eye aside, the Infinity Formula still did the job. There was no denying it had the occasional unpleasant side-effects, and after nearly a century, he'd experienced them all, but for all and that, he'd never actually died. There was no telling what that kind of thing did to a man.

He'd meant it at the time. He still did.

And that… That was a problem.

Fury picked up his phone and started pressing buttons.


End file.
